


When The Day Met The Night

by OllieCatSuperNova



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Song Inspired, just a lil' ficlet, not written in song lyric format tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieCatSuperNova/pseuds/OllieCatSuperNova
Summary: "As soon as I left to clear the rivers or check for poaching or any one of the many tasks involved with being part of the RCPM, she was fondly waiting for my return. I'd be gone for weeks, but when I stepped back through those doors she was spitting vinegar and nagging at my poor manners. I loved her, different as we were, and she'd often fill my thoughts on frozen nights out on the icy plains. She was my fire, and she kept me warm while I huddled with the dogs as the blizzards buried us, miles from home. As they say, opposites attract, and when they do, the world is a beautiful place."-Bob Fraser's Journal





	When The Day Met The Night

**

“ _When the moon fell in love with the sun_  
_All was golden in the sky_  
_All was golden when the day met the night”_

**

 

Ray Vecchio had been described as many things: boisterous, irresponsible, excitable, stubborn… but when Frannie compared him to a hot summer day he had to pause for a moment. She explained further, saying he was like the sun- bright and warm to those he cared about, mood dependent on the weather, knew how to make someone miserable if he wanted- and Ray had to admit that she was right. In fact he liked the comparison, and when he was feeling like everyone’s doormat he thought back on his sister’s words. He was the sun, and no one could take that from him.

 

***

 

Benton Fraser had been described as many things: thorough, level headed, reasonable, enigmatic… but when Bob compared him to a clear winter night he had to think for a moment. He explained further, saying he was like the moon- just bright enough to guide the way, mood dependent on the season, knew how to make a man crazy if he wanted- and Benton had to admit that he had a point. In fact he was fond of the comparison, and when people were taking particular advantage of him he thought of his father’s words. He was the moon, and he’d always have that.

 

\\\\***//

 

Ray was having a bad fucking day. Somehow he’d forgotten to set his alarm so he ended up waking up late, getting about a thousand angry phone calls from Welsh, and ended up having to go back home because he’d grabbed the wrong jacket. On top of that, another one of his cases had been given to Louie and Huey for one reason or other. From the very first step into the precinct he felt burning hot. He was brisk and short with Elaine when she came to give him the info he’d asked for the previous night, downing his scalding hot coffee without feeling it burn his already heated throat.

 

“ _Vec_ chio!” came Welsh’s harsh call. Ray sighed and stood back up from typing (and horribly misspelling) another form, clearly showing his frustration. He entered the bullpen and just stood there, waiting for orders. Welsh was never one to yell, or even really get angry. “Sorry about the twins taking your case. We got a black market clothing suspect in holding. I’d like you to go talk him into admitting who he is.”

 

Ray sighed dramatically and replied with a half-hearted, “Yes sir,” and turned to leave.

 

“Vecchio,” he turned back at Welsh’s voice. “I’d send you home early if I could, but we’re expecting a Canadian today to check on a case of yours. Nothing to worry about, in fact forget I mentioned it, you’ll do just fine.”

 

Ray paused for a moment, letting it sink in. A Canadian. Checking up on one of his cases. Okay, he could work with his day getting worse. “Yes sir,” he repeated, then turned and left to go to the cells. As he was heading down the stairs, he told Elaine where he’d be without the slightest pause.

 

He’d almost gotten the guy to believe he was a seller of high quality stolen garments when a Mountie strolled into the holding area. “I’m looking for a Detective Armani.” The perp glared at him and everyone else in the cell advanced on him.

 

Ray threw his hands up, feeling nervousness spread through him. “What? You mean... what- Guard!”

 

***

 

Fraser followed the detective up to his desk, marveling silently at the huge precinct- and to think that this was but a single station out of many in the city… He shook it off, Chicago was a large city, many times larger than his home of Tuktoyaktuk, of course it would have a much larger police force. “Okay, who let the Mountie into the holding cell?” Fraser watched as everyone in the room raised their hands without looking up from their tasks. He suppressed a grin. The detective sat at his desk, looking weary down to his bones, heaving a deep sigh.

 

Fraser felt like he should say something, so he thought for a split second before supplying, “I’m sorry. I believe it was an unfortunate confusion about an unfamiliar, idiomatic trade name.” Of course he’d heard of Armani before, but it wasn’t like he ran into it every day in the frozen north of his home.

 

“What the confusion was,” the detective gritted out, clearly trying to retain an element of calm, “down here, we don't bust in on some guy when he's about to take down the biggest operator in the garment district for buying stolen merchandise!” The man sank back in his seat, and Fraser felt an air of cool calm take over him. He tried to act innocent, to not smile.

 

He shouldn’t say it. He really shouldn’t say it to this man who was obviously already having a bad day. “So you were attempting to sell him a truckload of illegally obtained men's clothing,” he was almost shocked at his own words. He watched the man, his lack of any hesitation for thought.

 

“That’s right!” The man was almost sweating, from what, Fraser couldn’t say.

 

He couldn’t help goading him on a bit at this point. “Isn’t that entrapment?”

 

The man sighed wearily, suddenly leaning back passively. “What do you want from me?” His tired voice instantly made him feel guilty for his teasing.

 

Fraser glanced at his boots, then handed over a case document, sobering. “I was told you were in charge of this case.”

 

***

 

Ray looked at the piece of paper the man in red had handed him. “The dead Mountie thing, like I couldn't have guessed,” he deadpanned, and really, why hadn’t he put the two together? “Look, I got the list of names, it's in my basket there somewhere. The moment I get a chance I'll run them through the computer, pick up the phone, call you with the information, and you can get your Boy Scout points.” He didn’t even know why he was being so testy, but he could easily blame it on his shitty day. Everyone had a bad day, the guy would understand. “Anything else?”

 

“Yes.” Ray opened his mouth to dismiss the Mountie, but then his answer sunk in and his mouth snapped shut again with nothing prepared to say. The man took that as a signal to continue, “The dead Mountie was my father.” Oh shit. Ray was silent, too busy feeling like a complete jerk. “I'd appreciate it if you'd check the names while there's still a chance of catching the man who killed him,” the Canadian added with a note of eerie chill.

 

He turned to leave, and Ray scrambled for the name list he’d been given last night and tossed aside with no intention of ever using them, but then the Mountie faced him again. Ray felt heat rise to his face, but ignored it.

 

“And he’s not in the garment business.”

 

Ray froze for a second, feeling his heart freeze with him. The man wasn’t going to be angry with him? He wasn’t going to make sure he ran the names as soon as possible? Wait, _who_ wasn’t in the garment business? “...What?” he said dumbly, his brain supplying nothing more for his mouth.

 

“Your operator,” he explained. “He had a hole in his shoe. I’m guessing a big garment buyer wouldn't be seen with a hole in his shoe. So, like you, I believe he's pretending to be someone he's not.”

 

Ray was speechless, so the man simply turned and left him to think about his words. He sorted through his papers numbly, realising that the man was right. He’d been played by the suspect. He should be angry. He should be embarrassed, and he should feel furious for feeling so in the first place.

 

But he felt warm inside. Not hot anger, just warm…  _something_. He knew what it was, but he was still in denial. Why would he feel affection for a man he’d just met? He looked out the window and noticed the warm sun bleeding golden light around it in the sky, bathing the city in its light, but accompanied by a chilly breeze which maintained a comfortable temperature.

 

***

 

Fraser stepped out of the precinct and closed his eyes briefly as a cool northern breeze licked the heat away from his cheeks. Chicago was hot, and it seemed that everyone heated their buildings to the mid-seventies. When he opened them, he noticed a golden haze covering the city streets- the sun was close to setting but not close enough to splash other colours across the sky.

 

He found himself smiling, his chest filled with warmth not intense enough to make him uncomfortable, but enough to let him know it was there. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that he felt, but he knew he was fond of the man, and he felt a deep instinctual need to be around him.

 

\\\\***//

 

 _Yes,_ the two thought simultaneously, _all certainly is golden._

 

_**_

_“In the middle of summer_  
_All was golden in the sky_  
_All was golden when the day met the night_  
_Summer-_  
_All was golden in the sky_  
_All was golden when the day met the night_  
_Summer, summer, summer, summer-_  
All was golden when the day met the night”

_**_

**Author's Note:**

> I MADE EVERYTHING UP, FROM BOBERT'S DIARY TO RAY AND BENNY BOY'S ACTIONS 
> 
> (oh, but their on-screen dialog is *mostly* true)
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO the lyrics are from Panic! at the Disco's "When the Day Met the Night" if y'all didn't know


End file.
